Before Sunrise

by Rick Mofina

  Elena’s hands were warm, soft, and felt good as she worked on his. He liked how her fingers traced the lines in his palms as she examined them. But he soon grew uneasy at the way her face creased with seriousness, as if she’d discovered something troubling.

  “Is it bad?” Fortin asked.

  “I can’t tell, it’s sort of confusing.”

  “Will I live as long as Andre, or Paul?”

  Elena drew her face closer to his palm. He could feel her soft breath on his skin, and he liked it.

  “It’s difficult to say.”

  “Will I be rich?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you see anything?”

  “You’re going to do something great, very great.”

  “What?” Fortin smiled. “Like play in the NHL?”

  “No, nothing like that. You like helping people, right?”

  “I guess so.”

  Elena bit her lip and blinked.

  “It’s strange, your lines are strong. I see mountains and a vast sky, all very beautiful. But there’s more,” she said, staring hard at the lines in his palms, trying to make sense of what she saw.

  “I see darkness for you.”

  She lifted her face, looked directly at him, the candle flame trembling in her eyes.

  “I see darkness for you, and then you’re going to do something great, something wonderful and glorious.”

  That night Fortin couldn’t sleep. He lay in his bed, staring out his window at the crescent moon, trying to imagine the life Elena Grabowski had envisioned for him.

  Darkness then something wonderful and glorious.

  By spring, Elena and her family had moved to the U.S. Fortin had overheard his mother tell a neighbor that they went to Chicago. He never saw or heard from Elena again. But the one thing he’d held on to was her prediction from that night in the kitchen of her family’s basement apartment.

  He’d never forgotten it.

  From time to time he wondered, partly with expectation, but more with amusement, about this mysterious, great thing he was destined to do. Because, it had long been obvious, he’d never had the talent to play hockey in the NHL, a fact he’d accepted long before he graduated from high school. The truth was he liked helping people, and his dream was to become a Mountie, a federal cop with the most recognized police force in the world.

  He wanted to follow his old man’s path into law enforcement.

  Maybe this is my great, good thing?

  He wondered about it now as he stared into the night.

  Chapter 3

  Southern Alberta

  The rain had intensified and he adjusted his wipers, remembering how his father and mother had tears in their eyes the day his graduating troop marched by them at the RCMP Training Academy in Regina, Saskatchewan. He wore the ceremonial red serge tunic, riding breeches, and the iconic Stetson.

  “You look so handsome, Will,” his mother’s eyes glistened.

  His father, being a serving member of the Sûreté du Québec, was wearing his dress uniform, too, and had been allowed to present him with his RCMP badge during the ceremony.

  “I’m so proud of you,” his dad beamed. “This is a great day, son, such a great day.”

  It was one of the best days of his life.

  His first posting was in New Brunswick at Neguac, along the Atlantic coast. It was mostly a world of lumber, fishing, and farming. A region of tough, hardworking, big-hearted people that he grew to love because it was where he met the woman he married.

  He’d been in New Brunswick about six months when he’d gone to a school near Burnt Church and gave a presentation on staying safe to a classroom of ten-year-olds. While he was taking questions about stranger danger, drugs, alcohol, what to do about bullying, he’d noticed that the teacher, Ms. Cathy Pearson, had left the room. When she’d returned to make sure that her class thanked him, he thought her eyes had reddened. She touched a tissue to her nose a few times.

  Later, when they were alone in the hall, he kept his voice low and said: “Forgive me for intruding, Cathy, but is everything okay?”

  She tried smiling, then looked away, her composure slipping.

  “No, not really, but I’ll be fine.”

  “If you’d like to talk, I’m a good listener. In fact, I’ve got time now.”

  School was done for that day. She’d weighed his offer, started shaking her head as if she was going to decline.

  “Listen, I don’t know what’s troubling you and it’s none of my business,” he’d said. “But sometimes talking with someone can help.”

  She’d searched his eyes for a moment then asked him to meet her outside by the basketball court.

  As they walked alone along the edges of the school yard she told him that her fiancé had broken off their engagement, that he’d met someone else and was moving to Toronto. Fortin and Cathy walked the entire perimeter of the school property three times before she’d finished pouring out her heart to him.

  “I’m sorry for burdening you with this, Will. But I saw how good you were with the kids. You struck me as a kind-hearted man. You’re a good listener and you were right. This has helped, thank you.”

  A few days later he’d called her to see how she was doing.

  She thought he was sweet and thoughtful to call and told him so two weeks later when they’d met for coffee at a diner. In the weeks that followed, they continued having coffee together; then it was dinner in Miramichi, then shopping and a movie in Moncton, then a weekend in Halifax.

  Their relationship grew and two years later, it had blossomed into an engagement.

  They were married in a little seaside church on Prince Edward Island, where her family was from.

  Surely, this had to be the greatest, most wonderful thing he could’ve done, he thought, as he looked into Cathy’s eyes that day.

  She was his sun, his stars, and his moon.

  Cathy was his world.

  After five years in New Brunswick, Fortin’s supervisor suggested that he consider going to Alberta.

  “Things are moving fast in K-Division, Will. Your chances for advancement are better there.”

  Fortin followed his Staff Sergeant’s advice and his next posting was in Southern Alberta at the small Lone Tree Detachment. He and Cathy had rented a ranch house on a two-lane road that meandered into the foothills. It sat on a small ridge overlooking a clear stream and the Rockies.

  They loved it.

  Cathy got a job teaching with the school district, she’d planted a garden, and they talked about starting a family. Fortin had been assigned to some special operations and helped make some key arrests at the Montana border. His service record was exemplary. He’d been in Alberta two years now and was eager to apply for Corporal and write the exam. His buddies had told him that the brass in Calgary were watching him and liking him for a detective job with General Investigations in the Major Crimes section.

  That would be great if that happened because from there he could eventually work on making Sergeant. At least that was his plan, he thought as his radio crackled. This time the dispatcher’s voice had quickened, betraying a mix of emotion and concern.

  “Control to Lone Tree Six?”

  “Lone Tree Six, copy.”

  “What’s your ETA?”

  Fortin checked his position and the time.

  “About five to seven minutes.”

  “Control to Lone Tree Six, got an update.”

  “Six, go ahead.”

  “Trudy now says Lyle’s suicidal and he’s got a gun. Says he’s been drinking, shouting, and won’t let her leave with the kids.”

  Fortin’s stomach tensed and his mind raced.

  This is not good. I’ve got to get Trudy and the kids out of there.

  Fortin was the one who’d put Lyle in jail for two days on assault charges from the previous incident. Trudy pleaded to the court for Lyle not to be kept in custody. Helped by relatives and neighbors, she’d raised the money for Lyle’s b
ond and the court released him with the promise he’d seek counseling and show up for his next court date, which had been set and pushed back several times.

  This is how these things go.

  Now, it was in three weeks.

  Why the court didn’t order Lyle to surrender his firearms was a head-shaking mystery to Fortin.

  Now look at what we’ve got. Not good at all. Those little kids have been through hell.

  In the static-filled radio silence Fortin searched the night for options on how he’d approach the Dolan home.

  Chapter 4

  Southern Alberta

  It was at times like this that Fortin hated that Lone Tree was an understaffed detachment. The fact that one of the other constables had booked off sick today didn’t help matters. This was Fortin’s seventh straight night shift and he was exhausted.

  But he had to follow the backup policy on the Dolan call.

  I can’t respond alone.

  He considered calling an off-duty member for backup, Ted Dawson, but he was a solid hour away, if he was home. He could try requesting help from detachments nearby like Cardston, Rosestone, or Raymond, but again, they too were an hour away. He could request support from the RCMP Emergency Response Team in Calgary, but it’d be more than two hours before those guys got down here. Maybe the Tactical Unit with Lethbridge police, they were closer?

  I’ve got to do something now.

  “Control to Six, did you copy?”

  “Six, ten-four, copied. Control, can you dispatch a member to back me up out of Rosestone Creek?”

  “Stand by.”

  While waiting, Fortin reviewed his dealings with Lyle Dolan one more time, knowing that he had to follow policy to the letter. He couldn’t walk into a dangerous domestic alone, or there’d be hell to pay.

  “Control to Six, we’ve got Wilson coming from Rosestone Detachment, he’s forty-five minutes from you.”

  “Ten-four, thanks.”

  “Control to Six, what’s your ETA on the Dolan residence?”

  “Coming up to the place now.”

  Fortin eased his car onto the gravel shoulder in front of the property. He killed his lights, put the transmission into park, and sized things up. The Dolan residence, the barn, and the outbuildings, sat near the road. The closest neighbor was a quarter mile away but right off, he didn’t like what he saw in the narrow, puddle-filled driveway.

  Lyle’s pickup was T-boned behind Trudy’s Toyota. It was idling but no one was in sight. Fortin thought the dent in the Toyota’s left rear quarter was fresh, as was the fractured glass on the driver’s side window.

  Lyle must’ve stopped her from leaving.

  Growing concerned, Fortin reached for his cell, hoping he could talk to Trudy or Lyle, get a sense of the situation in the house, and calm things down. But the family’s line rang and rang, not even stopping at voicemail.

  Not good. I know they’ve got voicemail. I used it when I called before.

  Staring through the rain at the house, his mind raced with a million scenarios of what might be happening inside, and his heart beat faster.

  I’m just useless sitting here.

  Fortin caught his breath – a faint sound carried in the air.

  What was that?

  He cracked open his window. The rain hissed, then – there it is again – a child’s scream, an agonizing wail that tore at his heart.

  Damn, I can’t sit here! I can’t wait for Wilson!

  He climbed out of the car, stood next to it, clipped his portable radio to his belt, inserted his earpiece, then reached for his shoulder microphone.

  “Six to Control. I’m going in to assess things; I’ll get back to you.”

  “Ten-four, Six. Are you not waiting for backup?”

  “Negative. I heard a scream from the house! I’m going in now!”

  Before Fortin took his first step to the house, before he’d even heard the shot, the first bullet whizzed by his ear. As he crouched for cover behind his open door, the second shot shattered the window; shards scraped his cheek and temple above his eye. A third shot whizzed over the car’s light bar, a fourth smashed his windshield. He was exposed and couldn’t stay here.

  Gasping for breath, he crawled through the mud behind Trudy’s Toyota and drew his Smith & Wesson semi-automatic 9-millimeter. Now he had a better view of Lyle, standing on his porch, a silhouette under the light, aiming to shoot at him again.

  Fortin wiped at the blood trickling into his eye; his hand shook as he steadied it on the cold, wet hood of the car.

  “It’s Will, Lyle! Put the gun down! Put your hands where I can see ’em!”

  Lyle answered with two more shots. Fortin returned fire, getting off several quick rounds that put Lyle down.

  Adrenaline pumping, his mind blazing, ears ringing, Fortin moved like he was underwater. His training kicked in, and with his gun drawn, he approached Lyle. He wasn’t breathing. He was spread-eagled on the porch, in dirty boots, jeans, T-shirt. His cap was next to him.

  He appeared dead.

  As Fortin neared his body to keep Lyle’s gun away he was puzzled by the heap of colors and shapes under and near him, trying to determine what it could be then – Oh God! Oh no! He saw a tiny hand, a face, another face, and the awful truth shrieked with such velocity he vomited.

  Billy Dolan, aged five, his sister, Daisy, aged four, were also killed by Fortin’s rounds.

  He never saw them standing behind their father, blocked by the porch wall. Never saw them until now. Tiny eyes, frozen open, stared at the stars in the vast prairie sky. Their little bodies shook slightly, from the tugging by their three-year-old sister, Lori.

  “Billy, wake up! Daisy, wake up!”

  Fortin fell to his knees over the children, his body shaking as he reached for his radio, his trembling hand slipping in the rain.

  Chapter 5

  Southern Alberta

  The moments after the shooting were like a dark dream for Will Fortin.

  For an instant he hurled through an out-of-body rush, blood hammering in his ears, his scalp tingling.

  Lyle Dolan was dead. Six-year-old Billy Dolan was dead. His five-year-old sister, Daisy Dolan, was dead.

  I shot them all. I killed them all.

  Fortin remembered static-filled voices shouting over his portable radio, calls for ambulances, calls for backup and status reports. Blood from his glass cuts webbed down his face, onto his shirt and vest, but he felt no pain as adrenaline coursed through him.

  Suddenly his thoughts became crystalline. His training took over when he considered three-year-old Lori Dolan, grasping at the bodies of her brother and sister.

  “Billy, wake up! Daisy, wake up!”

  He hoisted her from the dead, put her in his car, wrapped his jacket around her and turned down his car radio so she wouldn’t hear the dispatches as the rain pelted the car.

  “You have to stay here, honey, okay?”

  Her eyes were huge, frozen wide, as she nodded.

  Then he returned to the house to look for her mother.

  Where’s Trudy?

  Gun drawn, Fortin searched room after room.

  Maybe she was hiding? Maybe Lyle had locked her up?

  He’d found her in the bedroom on the bed.

  At first he wondered why someone had thrown paint against the wall because the splatter was so intense. Trudy was in a half-sitting position, the back of her head had vanished into brain matter pasted to the wall as she stared back at him in wide-eyed, questioning horror and her words from his earlier calls echoed in his brain.

  We’ll talk to the bank. We’ll work it out. We’ll be fine.

  In the kitchen, on the table, Fortin saw that Lyle had been midway through his suicide note on the back of the formal, cold foreclosure notice. In dark block letters that punctured the page in spots, Lyle had stated that he wouldn’t harm Billy, Daisy, and Lori, whom he wanted his sister to raise.

  “She can give them a better life than I ever could.�
�

  Fortin tensed when he heard a noise in the living room.

  Reflexively, he extended his weapon.

  Somehow Lori had gotten out of his car, switched on the TV and DVD player, and was watching Road Runner cartoons. The lyrics sounded throughout the house, something about the Coyote chasing you and what will happen if he catches you.

  Lori’s little face was smeared with blood. It had to be from Fortin’s shoulder when he’d carried her. She stared at the TV screen, tears rolling down her little cheeks as she shouted.

  “Billy, wake up! Daisy, wake up! Wake up and watch TV with me, please!”

  Fortin wanted to take Lori to a neighbor’s house, the Starners, but it was too far and he couldn’t leave the scene. He didn’t want to call them because he needed to protect the scene. He wanted to seal it with tape starting at the entrance to the property but he’d adhered to the fundamental rule.

  Never leave a scene unattended.

  Help was coming. Help was on the way.

  So he sat with Lori among the dead, bleeding and trembling with his ears ringing. While he watched the Coyote chase the Road Runner, he struggled to suppress the piercing cry rising in a terrified corner of his heart before he realized that it was the sound of approaching sirens. And at that moment he felt as if he’d stepped from a cliff like the Coyote and was plunging at whistling speed, down, down, down, into a dark canyon.

  Chapter 6

  Southern Alberta

  The chaos soon yielded to procedure and the order of an investigation as a stream of people arrived.

  There was the Major Crimes Unit out of Calgary, its detectives would lead the investigation and were among the best in the country. There were the forensic experts who’d set up lights, pulled on their moon suits, and began processing the aftermath, probing the house, the porch, and Fortin’s patrol car. The Serious Incident Response Team arrived to conduct its separate investigation. And Fortin’s staff rep for the region was there, advising him on how he should cooperate as more people joined the scene.